


Stanley Stilts

by WAluigipants



Category: Original Work
Genre: 1980s, Awkward Romance, Carnival, Circus, Coming of Age, Family, Family Feels, Fantasy, Gen, Giants, Mild Language, TV-14
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:48:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 18,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27533272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WAluigipants/pseuds/WAluigipants
Summary: Stanley Bailey Graham was born to a circus family. His father's ringmaster, and his mother is a trapeze artist, and some of his relatives and cousins are part of the troupe contributing their talent to the show. Stanley believes he has nothing to offer. He's a little short for his age, and his magic skills are subpar. While he may help around with the animal taming and other things around the troupe, he doesn't feel he contributes enough. On a day with nothing to do, Stanley goes to the carnival outside the circus tent and uses a wish maker machine, wishing to be taller, talented, and appreciated.Only problem is that he mumbled the wish......but it all comes true regardless.
Kudos: 1





	1. 1979 - Wishmaker

"Come one, come all."

Now there's a phrase I clearly don't hear enough of with here with _m_ _y_ family. We're part of a literal circus. Sure, laugh at me all you want, but once you see everyone perform, we'll knock your socks off. With this sense of humor, you'd probably think I'd be a clown... well, no. Not yet. I'm a bit too short for the uniform requirement at four foot two, and as funny as that'd look, I don't think I want to trip over onstage, nor am I really comfortable with really getting laughed at yet.

Sure, I'm learning some basic magic tricks, but I'm not making a lot of progress. So the best thing I can do for now with this circus is help around backstage, or behind the tent, in this case.

Like I'm doing now.

"Stan, we need your help with the plates we use for the spinning plates act."

That's one of my cousins, Michael. He does plate spinning, juggling, and fire-eating... and he's really good at the last one.

"With what?" I reply. "To put them away in the cupboards or super-glue them back together? Because they look fine to me."

Mike rolled his eyes and gestured to the grime at the bottom of a couple of plates. I remembered I used one to get a midnight snack earlier... and the other plates were dirtied from falling on the floor every now and then during his practice routine.

About an hour's worth of plate washing. At least it was better than yesterday, my last day of school despite it being only November.

Our circus troupe is a traveling troupe. We never stay in one place for more than a couple of weeks or a month, so I stay in school for a pretty short time. I'm never there long enough to make any long-time friends, or there long enough to find someone to at least crush on for a bit.

On the bright side, we get to see a lot of sights on our off days. We get to see relatives and my parents' family friends here and there. I remember going to both Disneyland and Disney World in one year at one point, but apart from that? Really? It's just never long enough for me to really... do anything.

And the plates were all clean... and Mike was off working on his juggling or unicycle routine, so that left me to my own devices. Taking a peek outside the tent, I looked at the carnival being held outside. These aren't always at the venues we hold, but when they're there, I like to take advantage of what I can do.

Running off to another tent, I go off to see my parents to ask them if I can go to the fairground and use my allowance. As I scramble inside the tent, I notice them working going over the routine for tonight's show, paying me no mind until I speak up.

"Mom? Dad? Can I go to the carnival? There are some snacks I want to get around the place, and a couple of rides. Can I use my allowance?"

"Have you finished your chores?" Dad spoke up, not looking up from his list of circus acts.

"Yeah. Mike just needed the plates for his routine cleaned up before he went off to practice the other part."

"Let me guess, you used one of the plates for a midnight snack again?" Mom chuckled, still looking at the list.

"Come on, you know I'm a growing kid."

"You don't seem to be getting any taller, Stanley." Dad glanced down at me briefly with a chuckle that followed Mom's.

"Alright, you can go to the carnival and buy some snacks, but after you finish practicing your magic tricks. Don't forget to do your homework when you get back, by the way. Even if you're not going to Madison Elementary anymore, you've still got to finish your assignments. You've also got to wake up early and get packing. We're going to be traveling to North Carolina, remember?"

"Okay, a promise is a promise. I'll get to work on those tricks."

But I wasn't making any progress... I might have been better off just going to the carnival anyway. As I picked up my pack of cards from my tent, I tried all sorts of card tricks on the way to the carnival, but nothing too significant. These were tricks anybody could do, nothing of my own... and then the breeze picked up and blew my cards away toward the back part of the carnival, down toward something I thought could change everything.

A wish maker machine. Othen the Amazing... and twenty-five cents for a wish.

Without hesitation, I pushed in a quarter and a piece of paper rolled out.

Make a wish.

I took a deep breath. What did I want? I wanted talent. I wanted to be taller. I wanted to be appreciated. So in one breath, I made my wish.

I wished for talent. I wished to be taller. I wished to be appreciated.

The eyes of the fortune-teller inside the machine closed then opened... and nothing happened. I said it again, this time louder, but it didn't react.

I wasn't gonna waste my allowance here, and I moved onto grab some snacks from the concessions.

"So _much_ for making a wish," I thought.


	2. 1980 - Happy Birthday, Long Legs.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanley's wish starts coming true.

What I woke up with today on this cold day on March 7th was a surprise.

March 7th. Was I forgetting something? Oh yeah... today was my birthday. I was turning eleven. Every year on my birthday, the circus troupe gets together and celebrates my birthday after the big performance at night.

As I got up to get dressed for school, something felt a little... off. My jeans were a bit short, and my shoes felt a little tight... and my legs? They felt a little sore too. But let's deal with the pressing issue was at hand: school.

The last couple of days or so was me getting used to the campus while managing homework, and I didn't expect this day to really be any different barring the fact that I'd get a happy birthday from everyone and their brother. But it would be an additional comment to all of those remarks that would make me think something over, but I'll cross that bridge when I get there. Speaking of bridges, the way to school this time actually did have a bridge to cross, but that's besides the point.

The school day went just about as I'd expected. Happy birthday here, happy birthday there, from people I didn't even know and wouldn't meet again in a couple of weeks. But something happened just before lunch. Something that made me rethink things.

"Happy birthday, long legs." A student from behind my seat spoke up, stifling a laugh.

I looked to them and raised an eyebrow, then remembered what I'd learned this morning. My jeans were a bit short... and my legs had gotten longer, apparently. I appreciated the added boost in height, but this all felt a bit... weird. A bit too good to be true, to be honest. I shook it off though with a smile and made a funny reply of my own. This sort of thing would be better to discuss at home after the performance.

"Guess I should try out being a model, huh?"

"I guess you could, Stanley." The student replied with another chuckle, then got out of their seat and headed out to lunch.

I followed not long afterward, going to the cafeteria and grabbing my lunch. As I sat down eating chicken strips, I looked down at my legs again, and then back at my food. People don't just... suddenly get taller, do they? There was an explanation for this, but I couldn't quite think of it at the time. It wasn't until the end of the day, that I'd realize what it was... and there'd be no coming back from it.

After finishing my lunch, I made my way back to class. From that point I decided to make the most of things... I'd finally gotten what I wanted, and for my birthday too. I felt a bit more confident in myself... a bit happier, really. Who knew that to get a better outlook on life, I just needed to be a couple inches taller?

Confidence helped me a ton. So what if I wasn't going to see this school again in a couple weeks? It would be worth it to make a couple more friends along the way. Maybe find a couple to write to as I travelled around, or some friends to invite to see the family circus? It wouldn't hurt to try. It wouldn't hurt... not for a long while. With a smile on my face, I went on through to face the rest of the day. I did my homework... I helped out with the performance behind the scenes... and I waited in my tent for the birthday celebration as the show went on, even if it felt like hours. Superhero comics could only keep me busy for so long.

At last, my family went inside my tent and gathered around, setting down a sweet pink, blue, and white cake with strawberry filling on a small table. As the celebration began, I felt that same thought I had at lunchtime going at my head again for just a brief moment.

"Stanley? Blow out the candles. Make a wish. From this day forward until next year, you're eleven."

 _Wish_... That was it. I made a wish a couple months ago at a wish maker machine. _I wished to be appreciated. I wished to be taller. I wished for talent._ At this moment I felt appreciated, like my family saw me as someone. And I had gotten a bit taller... but talent? I managed to make someone laugh today, didn't I? Something clicked there. The wishes I'd made on that day were coming true. This was... all I'd ever wanted, really, and I got what I asked for. So from these candles, I wished thanks to whatever made this day turn out great.


	3. June 1980 - December 1981 - Like a Rocket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As you grow up, life begins to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is written like a journal.

**June 17th, 1980**

About three months have passed since my birthday in March. It's the middle of June. From this point forward, I'll be making notes about my height until I lose track. I'm five foot three, two inches shorter than my mom. I've got time to buy comics, visit some of my non-circus family relatives, and time to figure out what my talent is in this circus troupe. Why? School's out for the summer, for godsakes. Gotta make the most of my time here, come on.

I got up from my bed and put on a pair of cargo shorts, a graphic tee, and looked at myself in the mirror. Compared to three months ago, I've grown into myself a bit better. My legs don't seem that long anymore, but I've chosen to stick with the nickname. And with a smile, I made my way out of the tent. There wasn't any time to lose. With the bike I'd gotten for my birthday, I made my into town as fast as I could, occasionally putting up flyers for the carnival and circus around the place. We'd be here for at least a month. The weather in Ohio wasn't bad. It was warm, and not scorching as my dad would say it would be in July.

Stop one on the list was to buy some Marvel comics and collectible Star Wars action figures at the comic shop.

Stop two was to visit Josh, Sadie, and the rest of the Langs at their place, and then wait for Mom, Dad, and Mike to come over for lunch.

Stop three was going back to the fairground and to my tent to practice some of the card and hat tricks. This time I'd get the stuff down for sure.

Not that bad of a plan, really. This was the plan for a couple of days until Friday, which was when the shows started, barring the lunch visits to the Langs. After today, it'd be just me and Mike visiting. Mom and Dad recommended that I get to know Josh and Alex as they're around my age, and also my aunt Sara and uncle Joel as well.

So I made my first stop at the comic shop. By the time I'd gotten there, they'd just opened for the day. Grabbing the new issues of Spider-Man, The Avengers, and Fantastic Four, as well as a Luke Skywalker figurine, I made my way to the counter to make my purchase. After that, I put my goods in my backpack and biked my way over to the Langs, who were on the outskirts of town.

The last time I'd seen them, I was around five or six... and I didn't really have much in common with them. But I didn't realize how well I'd get along with them today. As I parked my bike and knocked on the door, I found myself waiting for a couple of minutes... before finally getting a response from a closed door.

"Stanley Graham?" A voice spoke from the other side.

"Yeah, that's me," I replied.

"We didn't think you were coming until next week. We haven't tidied up the place yet." The door opened, and it was Aunt Sara, who hadn't changed since the last time I saw her. Looking me over, her face slowly broke into a wide smile. "And... look at you! How big you've gotten!"

 _Big._ That was a word I'd start hearing a lot. As I tried to speak up over her ramblings on how adorable or cute I was back when she'd last seen me, I saw someone about my age aim some sort of spitball at me with a straw... and bullseye. They got me right in the forehead... and that quickly changed the mood of the situation.

"Josh, that's no way to treat a guest," Sara said as she turned around. But it wasn't Josh who'd shot the spitball... it was Sadie, who had a mischievous smile on her face.

"Josh isn't here. He's still cleaning up his room, Mom, and I already did my share," Sadie replied.

"Stanley, meet Sadie. Sadie, Stanley," Sara said, a bit exasperated as she turned around and went up the stairs to get Josh.  
  
As I looked Sadie over, the memory of her from those five or six years ago since I've seen the family came back. Her hair was still poofy with curls all about, like how I'd seen her in the Christmas cards... but a bit more tamed. Not long afterward, Josh came down the stairs, with the same shade of brown hair as his sister, but with straighter hair.

"How's Michael?" Josh spoke as he came down the stairs.

"Michael's doing fine. He's coming later for lunch with my parents. How are you guys?"

"We're doing fine. School just got out for us too." Sadie spoke.

"I... don't remember you being tall when we last met up, Stan. How tall are you now?" Josh gave me a suspicious look.

"I'm... five foot three," I replied.

"And how old are you?" Sadie inquired.

"I'm eleven. About a year or half a year younger than you guys."

"...God, what have your parents been feeding you at the circus? Can't have been popcorn and corn dogs, right?"

"It's the fried pickles they sell sometimes. There's magic in them or something stimulates your growth plates," I joked.

"Really?" Josh scoffed.

"Well, pickles are veggies, aren't they?" Sadie rolled her eyes. "Veggies are good for you, after all, right?"

The rest of the visit went about as I'd expected. I got to know them pretty well once they showed off their rooms, which were _somehow_ clean by the time I got to them. Josh was a bigger Star Wars nerd than me... and already had the Luke Skywalker action figure I'd just picked up today. After that, we recreated a scene from the Empire Strikes Back. Then we were interrupted by Sadie, and we went and checked out her room, which was decked out in all sorts of band and music stuff. She had a couple of comics in her closet which she pulled out, some that I've never heard of or seen before at the shops I'd visit around the country. Just as I'd gotten to a good part in one of them, the doorbell had rung... and my parents had arrived with Mike, who seemed to have tears in his eyes.

Uncle Joel had arrived a couple of minutes later with some Mexican food he picked up on the way back from work and gave me a rather rough noogie on the head, then welcomed back Mike with open arms as if he was coming from some big college trip or something. Then it was time for lunch. It was just as about as I'd expected... delicious and spicy. After all of us had eaten our fill, we decided to make our way back to the tent, and I'd get back to practicing my magic work for future performances.

This repeated for a couple of days up until Friday... it was neat to see what home life was like... away from the circus... away from the hustle and bustle of crowds. And it was there I realized that I was the tallest and youngest among Josh, Sadie and I... and the possibility of me overtaking Josh's 5'9" height came into my head.

* * *

**October 31st, 1980**

Five foot, seven inches. 5'7". Two inches taller than my mom, three inches shorter than my dad. I'd made progress with my magic. I can do card tricks and hat tricks for other folks that show up at the fairground and can't afford a ticket to the show. It's for free, but do I mind? Not really. My legs are getting long again, and "Long Legs" is returning as a nickname. At school, I found a group of classmates that invited me to go trick-or-treating with them. They were freaked out when I told them I was the same age as them. I'm beginning to feel a little out of place at times at school...

After trick-or-treating and grabbing a ton of candy with some new friends here in Michigan, Mom told me to check in with her for some sort of check-up. She said she was a nurse before she became a trapeze artist. She ran some tests on me... checked my heart rate, checked my height, weight, blood pressure... She says she's worried about something.

* * *

**December 27th, 1980**

Five foot, eleven inches and a quarter. 5'11.25". Just under six foot. Taller than my dad by an inch and a quarter, and taller than Mike. It's not just Mom who's worried now, it's also Dad. He thinks I might be getting too tall, and I'm beginning to agree. He says we should make a stop by the clinic in New York before New Years. But otherwise, things have gone pretty well. Christmas was fun. We did a bunch of stuff, like decorate outside the tent with a tree. Even the new guy who we picked up in November, our "giant," Lucas DiAngelo, helped out. He's a bit over seven feet tall, around seven foot two or seven foot one. He said he was an ex-basketball player and dropped out of college. He says he doesn't feel comfortable with sports.

* * *

**April 9th, 1981**

Six foot two. 6'2". Same height as our animal tamer. Not as tall as our strongman, who's 6'6", and I'm a foot shorter than our giant at 7'2".

There's a lot to talk about. It's been about four months, and I think I forgot to say what happened on my birthday last month and what happened at the clinic before New Years. But which one do I go over first? Well, health is important, isn't it? The clinic visit was... awkward. Both Lucas DiAngelo and I got tested for something called gigantism, which is some sort of medical condition that makes you grow super tall. Lucas tested positive and had to stay behind our group for two months before joining the circus again, and had surgery. I tested negative, but Mom says the doctors want her to keep an eye on me in the meantime.

My birthday was... pretty straightforward as things went. I had chocolate cake this year, and a new bike... but I don't think it'll last at the rate at I'm growing at.

* * *

**July 4th, 1981**

Six feet and a half. 6'6". Same height as our strongman Mr. Isaac, as I like to call him... but by no means as strong as him. I'm tall, lanky, and awkward. My arms and legs are... long, and I'm having balance problems. That's not fit to be a strongman, no sir... but I'm six inches shorter than Lucas. But today was a good show. Today was the 4th of July spectacular. In addition to the usual performances, we had red, white, and blue fireworks at the end, and I did some juggling tricks before and after the show.

There's one particular comment from one of the showgoers about me... he said I was "shooting up like a rocket."

* * *

**December 23rd, 1981**

Six foot ten. 6'10". I'm... big. Almost as tall as Lucas DiAngelo. I'm the youngest member and second tallest member of the troupe. Christmas is coming up soon, and I need to make presents for everybody. But today we have a clinic visit. I'll keep track of the notable things I hear about from it.

So as I get up from my bed, I have to stoop a little to see myself in the mirror. Same face, same everything... but long arms and long legs, like I wrote last time in July. I get custom clothes from the same person who makes Lucas' stuff, his mom... I'm... honestly getting a little scared of getting taller now. I hope the clinic's got something to help me with this.

Apparently, the tallest man in history was measured at eight feet, eleven inches. There was a statue of him on the way to the clinic... and Mike took a picture of ourselves next to him. I came up to the guy's chest, and Mike to his waist... but the fun kind of stopped there, since we had to get back on the road to the clinic.

I'm a medical mystery. No one really knows why I'm getting so tall except for me. This was the result of the wish I'd made two years ago. But there's no way we'd go all the way back to reverse it, right? And I don't think the doctors here would believe that sort of thing. It's not gigantism, it's not any sort of disease... it's just... happening.

Once we got back to the tent, I promised I'd explain everything to Mom and Dad.

And when I had told them what I'd wished for... Dad simply bit his lip, and Mom replied to me...

_ Be careful what you wish for. _


	4. Summer 1983 - Living Large

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanley is over seven feet tall and shows no signs of stopping in getting taller. There's no going back on a wish. On advice from his grandmother, Stanley finally joins the circus as a full member, going by the stage name Stanley Stilts. From here, he learns to make the most of his life and new size.

I haven't written here in over a year. Holy crap.

Well, first things first, let's keep up with tradition. The last time I was measured, I had just turned fourteen and stood at seven foot four. 7'4". Two inches taller than our giant, Lucas DiAngelo. We've got a bunch of new members of the family... Some clowns, some fire eaters, a tattooed lady that Mike's head over heels for, and well... I've been thinking about joining the circus. We arrived in Utah, where my grandmother lives.

But what happened last year?

Well, all sorts of things. I told everything that had happened to my grandma when we visited her. She was never in the circus, but she knew a thing or two about being different.

I'd described how I felt almost the entirety of last year.

"I felt alienated. I felt too big. I felt too different. I felt... out of place in this whole scheme of things. There were bullies at school calling me all sorts of names, and I'd given up on my magic tricks for the circus. Mom and Dad were scared for their lives, and I was a medical mystery. There was no telling when a life-changing wish would stop, no telling if this could be fatal, no telling if I was a freak or not."

But she told me her story, who she was, and what happened to her as a kid... and what she still is.

She told me she never learned how to talk until she was eleven. She described her life as her brain working differently than everyone else's... her brain was imaginative, smart, but lacked understanding of social cues. She never made many friends... and she's always known herself as someone who's  _ different _ , like me. Her parents made her feel awful for not being normal, but once she was my age she began to realize some things.  _ Normal _ is a relative term. What's normal is something perceived as average, the usual, the thing that everyone is comfortable and familiar with. But some people aren't comfortable or familiar with what's "normal," and no person was genuinely "normal" themselves.

It confused me at first, but she began telling me something else. She began giving me advice.

She looks at things from a different perspective from other people. She knows I'm tall, but doesn't see me as a freak. She sees me as a one-of-a-kind person. Someone magical. Someone who can bring smiles to others, someone who can make other people laugh, someone whose head is up so high that it would be a shame to bring it down. If people think me to be a I was a freak, I should take it as a compliment. There was no other freak like me—no one with as long legs or arms, or as handsome a face.

I smiled wide at my grandmother. This visit was arranged by Mom and Dad... I had them to thank for this trip.

And so began my look at life from another new perspective... a perspective that would only get higher and higher as the years would go by.

* * *

The next day I decided to join the circus for myself. Even if I technically already was a member of the troupe, I’d never gone up and performed on stage. Magic tricks, juggling, and my height... these were all assets I could use to show my talent... if I kept working at it, I would only get better, wouldn’t I?

I entered Mom and Dad’s tent, feeling nervous, but I kept my head held high and kept my wits about me, even if I felt like I would fall over at any moment. Clearing my throat, the two looked at me... and I pulled out a deck of cards, performing a trick with them in my long, dextrous fingers.

”I’d like to join the troupe. When... when’s the soonest I can perform?” I asked, putting away my cards.

Dad shook his head and laughed.

”Stan, we were just about to ask you the same question. We are about to ask if you were interested in performing on stage.”

My face went red, and I nearly fell over... but Mom quickly caught me from my fall, smiling.

“But first things first, we’re gonna have run some tests and exams. Measurements for height and weight, seeing where you fit in as a performer... and maybe teach you some balances exercises,” Mom added.

So we headed into another tent to see what I was capable of. Juggling was one... jokes were another... magic was a third... and I was measured from head to toe standing up, and lying down. Turns out I’d have grown two inches since the last time I was measured, meaning I was seven foot six. Just half a foot from reaching eight foot, another height benchmark. Weight-wise? I was rather lightweight for my height... and Mom shook her head at that. I was eating a lot in general—the calories had to come in somewhere. But after that, she glanced up from her clipboard and smiled at me.

”You’re already qualified for the troupe as it is, but we’re going to have to work on your balance... we should have you able to perform by next month though,” Mom spoke.

“That’s good. I’ve decided on a stage name already, by the way,” I added.

“Stage name? What is it, Stan?” Dad said as he made adjustments to the planned trip to Oregon.

”Stanley Stilts. If I’m gonna keep on getting taller like the way I am now, my legs are gonna look like stilts, aren’t they? And there’s alliteration. It works, doesn’t it?”

And so my legacy as a circus performer had begun.

* * *

Fast forward to next month, it was opening night. Wearing a straw hat, tennis shoes, an Aloha shirt, and a pair of shorts, I looked dashing, and larger than life. My act was up next...

And so I dashed on stage, and was greeted with an audience that made me feel small. There were so many people. I felt a bit afraid and a bit overwhelmed, but I swallowed my courage. With a high desk in the center and a basket of fruits and veggies, I quickly remembered the routine... and waved to the audience.

” _Good evenin’_ ladies and gents. My name’s Stanley. Stanley Stilts. I’m seven feet and seven inches tall... a bit taller than the other guy you saw earlier. Now, before I get on with the performance, does anybody have any questions?” My voice came out naturally. To some of the audience, it surprised them—they didn’t expect my voice to sound so young... but then again, I kind of looked like a kid on stilts with the way I grew. And in a matter of seconds, I got my first question.

”How did you get so tall, Stanley?”

At this, I laughed.

”Easy! Eating healthy. Fruits and veggies.” From there I picked up the assortment of fruits and veggies and began juggling them with ease. “Any more questions?”

”Are your parents tall?”

I shook my head.

”Nope. You met them earlier, actually! My dad’s the ringmaster of this whole show... and my mom? You saw her do that balancing act on the tightrope and do those trapeze acts. That’s her. My parents are normal height. Me? I’m special... and I think you might be too, kid!”

I winked at the young boy in the audience who asked the question... and then quickly angled my juggle to toss the fruits and veggies into the blender.

”Summer weather gets real hot up where I am. Could use a smoothie to beat the heat, honestly,” I joked. The audience chuckled... and I turned on the blender, and mouthed various sentences... and by the time the fruits and veggies were done blending, I’d spoken up and acted like I said something very important.

”...and that’s the solution for world peace.”

I poured the smoothie into a cup, and drank it, wiped my mouth, and then looked to the audience.

”I’m sorry, did you miss my explanation? Don’t worry! There’s always a chance you can hear it next show, because that’s all the time I’ve got. See you guys after the show!” I said as I began to walk backwards into the tent.

For the first performance, it all seemed to come so naturally. I thought I would have a nervous breakdown, but here I was, trying to hold back some laughs of my own toward my own jokes and sense of humor.

And things would only get better. 


	5. 1984-1985 - Balance is Key

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanley Stilts talks about balance.

**1984**

By December of 1983, my height had gone past eight feet. I'm a bit over the height chart at the moment, but I've measured myself to be around eight foot five right now. Just about six inches shorter than the tallest man in human history.

As I’m getting taller, balance is getting harder to manage. Both physical balance and life balance, actually. Since I'm part of a troupe as a performer rather than just a helper, I've got a bit less time to focus on school. My outlook on life still manages to be positive. Some classmates sometimes kick me in the legs without permission, but do I mind? Not really. Mom's balance techniques come in handy. I do whatever I can to keep my center of gravity and don't fall over as much. Some other students see me as a freak. But do I care about that? Not really. I see myself as just another student... just a bit bigger, really. Compared to how I looked last year, I don't look as thin or lanky... I feel a bit bigger... and thicker, I guess? My legs and arms are still long, but I've grown into them a bit better. I look great, except for the occasional spots of acne. But that's nothing a little facial cleanser can't fix.

Balance. That's the most important thing here. Homework is getting more difficult as I go from school to school and advance in each semester... and I've got rehearsals and practice for performances to worry about. I was able to manage during the summer, Thanksgiving break, and winter break... But now I have to do one or the other. I can try rehearsing ahead of time, but there's always the chance of something unexpected coming up... or a new prompt for a different routine. I can't always do my homework in advance, either. But every now and then, there's a chance that I can do both. As for physical balance... what do I do to maintain a good center of gravity?

There's a lot to that, actually. But the most important thing is that I stand up straight with my head held high. Grandma's advice still applies. I shift my weight toward the "center" of my body, where my stomach or heart would be. I take deep breaths... and keep my feet steady. At school, it's a bit difficult to do, with all of the hustle and bustle between classes in the hallways, and with the occasional kick in the leg by a curious student. It hurts a bit, but I'm able to get through and make my way to class.

Speaking of class, my seats haven't been normal for a long time. I have to raise my desk a bit by putting some extra books underneath the chair legs... and I usually sit in the back. I've made a couple of friends through the schools I've been to, and when I have free time, I try to visit them when I can. But that's not really that often. Every now and then I try sports like basketball during P.E., but I don't exactly have the endurance to really do anything long-term. Performing as part of the troupe is still one of my favorite things to do, and I don't think it'll change for a long time. I like to see the smiles on people's faces, hearing them laugh, hearing them cheer.

**1985**

Junior year prom night was today... March 28th. I'm sixteen, and nine feet tall and a single inch in height. Two inches taller than the tallest man in human history... but Guinness World Records isn't willing to validate my height. At this point, I think I've become larger than life. So what if I do keep getting taller and taller? So what if I do end up becoming as tall as a skyscraper? I'm one-of-a-kind. I'm not afraid of anything. Not even afraid of getting a date to prom this year.

So your giant friend Stanley Stilts managed to get a custom-made tuxedo, dress shoes, his hair styled into a mullet, and a lot of cologne all ready for the big night... all nine feet and an inch of him, but there was the school day to get through first.

As the school day went on and on, I'd tried and tried asking girls out... girls like tall guys, don't they? But I never got an answer... just questions about my height. I was still relatively new to the school, and I'd just arrived the week before.

But at long last, I'd managed to get a date to prom.

Her name was Nora. She had wavy brown hair, brown eyes, and freckles like mine.

The evening had finally arrived, and I met up with Nora at the venue at the school gym. I was decked out in my tuxedo and cologne, and Nora was wearing her tallest set of heels with her prom dress. Her hair was styled with a ribbon and had a bit of a frizzy look to it, like someone I'd seen on TV, like an actress. Even if she was six feet tall in her heels, she barely came past my waist... something that we both laughed about when it came time to take our picture.

I got on one knee for the photo and put one of my arms around her shoulder. Once we got the photo, I realized how awkward I'd looked. Larger than life indeed. I've grown into a giant. Just that thought resonated with me throughout the night, with Nora noting me to look a bit scared or distracted, especially when we danced.

She was right.

I was scared.

I was distracted.

I didn't feel... real.

I looked like someone straight out of a fairy tale... (which coincidentally enough was the theme for the prom night)

A real giant.

I looked at the photo again, hot tears streaming down my face. I'd never be normal again, would I? That wish... there'd be no coming back from it.

"What's the matter, Stilts?"

"Nora... I don't feel... real."

"I'd say the same thing. Never in my life did I think I'd meet a giant or go on a date with him, no less. This all feels like something from a fairy tale."

"It does. And that's scaring me. How do I know if you love me for sure, like as a genuine person?"

 _We barely knew each other._ Her face was red, and mine was too. We were two tomatoes as we sat next to each other on the bleachers.

"How do I know this isn't an act? You're in a circus, aren't you?" She asked.

"Nora, I'm crying. I know you want to cheer me up, but I'm serious here. I'm not Stanley Stilts at this moment. I'm Stanley Graham."

"We've only just met. You came to this school here in Oklahoma just a week ago... so I don't know for sure to say I love you just yet. This just doesn't feel... real."

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. At that moment I felt like falling over. Even if I was sitting down, I felt my center of gravity shift. I felt... unbalanced. My weight shifted to my head... or to my legs? I couldn't tell for sure.

"Stanley. Are you alright?" Nora asked, her voice cracking a bit.

"Let's... stay in contact. Can I have your number? I'm... not gonna go to high school anymore after this... I can arrange getting homeschooled." I spoke, my voice faltering somewhat.

"Stanley..."

"I know what I'm doing. I don't want to feel like this again next year. I'll write to you... I'll call you... I'll stay in contact. Try to remember me as something _other_ than a giant tonight, please?" My voice cracked and went silent just after the word tonight. I felt... like I couldn't get up. Everything felt off.

Nora looked at me in the eyes and grabbed my hand.

"I'll help you up."


	6. June 1986 - Having a Laugh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanley Stilts takes up a short stint as a clown.

**1986**

Seventeen years old, and around fourteen feet tall. My legs are long again and I'm just as tall as ever. I'm living up to my stage name, Stanley Stilts. Balance is awkward at this height, but I've been able to manage. Since prom night last year, I've been in contact with Nora. We're close friends, but we're far from romantic partners. If anything, she's like one of my cousins. Just a friend I keep in contact with. Mom's hired a tutor to help me with my schooling, and when we make our last stop for the year, I can get a diploma.

Our circus has stopped in North Carolina, and this time I'm not trying out to be a juggler. This time I'm gonna make people laugh. I'm gonna make people chuckle and lose their lungs... I'm gonna make a joke out of myself as one of the biggest clowns ever.

My costume's all custom made, as per usual since I hit six foot ten. Adorned with glitter in a colorful orange and green tuxedo, my hair dyed in brilliant indigo, pink striped pants that were taller than my dad, and shoes even bigger than the tennis shoes I already wore... I definitely looked the part. As I looked in the mirror set up high in the back of the tent, I noticed I was missing something. I had the makeup down with my mom and some clowns helping me out, but I was missing the red nose. Just where was it?

Where was it?

I saw it in the corner of my eye, behind a picture frame prop. Too low for me to reach... and it was kind of hard for me to bend down. I shook my head and went on to practice the routine. Jokes. That's something that came naturally.

"Roses are red, violets are blue... I'm allergic to pollen, so achoo!"

"How's the weather up here? A little rainy, I think." And at that moment I'd use the squirting flower in my shirt pocket.

Mom had walked into the tent, hearing my routine... and chuckled to herself, before coming up with a joke of her own.

"You know, I bet you can jump higher than a mountain with how tall you are, Stanley Stilts."

"Really? I'd say you could too because a mountain can't jump," and with that. I nearly fell over. That joke was perfect.

"Before you go on tonight, Stanley... could... could I have a hug?"

"Why?"

"Everything you've been through... despite how big you are... I'm proud to have you as my son. I want you to know I love you, no matter how high up you get. I want to hug you while I still can."

"The best you can manage from down there is hugging my legs, Mom," I replied, shaking my head. "I don't think that'll be enough to show how much you guys love me."

"With that kind of humor you're definitely fit to be a clown... and I think you're just missing one thing."

I got confused for a moment, then remembered what she meant. The red nose. Bending down and grabbing the red nose behind the picture frame, she made her way over to me with a ladder, up to the highest rung, and held out the crown nose. I bent down afterward, taking it out of her hands with a "thank you" and a bit of a giggle. Putting on the nose, I looked at myself in the mirror. A giant clown. To some that'd be scary, and to some that'd be a laugh. The colors on my costume were certainly a bit too bright to be intimidating to my eyes... and my legs... they seemed to go on and on. I looked like I was on stilts.

* * *

The sound of the audience could be heard from the other side of the tent. As I looked at the nine other clowns gathering around and going over the routine, I stood over, eyeing the clown car. Would... would I even fit? We hadn't tried that part of the routine until now.

"Curious on how that baby works, huh?" Silly Sam, a clown around my age said with a chuckle. "You've looked into it, haven't you?"

I nodded.

"Yeah, but I'm fourteen feet tall. I don't think I'll fit," I muttered.

"You'll manage just fine, Stan," Bob Bungee, the oldest of the clown troupe, patted the back of my leg reassuringly.

"But we're on in five minutes. I don't think I can fit in there that fast, either."

"There's a reason we're the fastest packers when it's time to get going to the next state for our tour, you know. We're organized and we keep things compact in there," Ditzy Dan spoke up.

"Compact?" Claustrophobia was the last thing I needed. And if I was in there for too long, I would get coulrophobia.

Showtime was in two minutes. I needed to get in there.

"You're the first one in, Stanley Stilts. After you. Ladies first," Sam said with a smug smile on his face.

"Oh, shut up," I said as I tried to fit in the clown car, legs in first.

How we were able to fit inside that thing was a surprise. I can't exactly share this secret... but somehow it all worked. All ten of us clowns, including me, were able to fit in there without the car being weighed down too much or without my leg sticking out. It was like it was some sort of pocket dimension, for a good analogy... or some other thing. It was all pitch black... I still don't know for sure. But as the car moved onto the stage, its "motor" vrooming and quickly spinning around in a drift and stopping in the middle to break to a sudden halt. Things felt a little lighter, and I heard footsteps. Everyone else was going onto the stage, and the crowd was beginning to laugh. One by one I felt and heard footsteps on my back, and the crowd going wild, then slowly going quiet.

It was my turn to get out of the car. In the darkness, I put forward a leg... then another... then my head... then my arms. The area brightened up... I was seeing the stage. As I ducked out of the clown car somehow and got up to my feet by some miracle, I was welcomed with oohs and ahhs as I got up to my full height.

* * *

Those performances were fun nights. I recall the occasional kid or baby crying here and there around us, but I never took it too personally. With each clown performance, I found getting into the clown car became easier and easier... but I wasn't getting smaller as the year went on. My height seemed stable for the rest of the year... and next year. We were able to do it for quite a while.


	7. 1988 - Giant

Here I thought it'd stopped, but you can never be too careful.

I think I've lost track.

Dad's measured me out to be nineteen feet tall.

Mike and the others measured me to be about twenty feet and a couple of inches.

Mom measured me to be between twenty-two and twenty-three feet tall.

It's hard to tell.

But a couple of things are for sure...

I'm huge.

I'm so tall I can use an animal cage car as a footrest for one of my legs.

I've got a special custom-sized tent.

I can run faster than how fast my parents' car moves.

My legs go on for what I feel like are miles.

I sway sometimes when I try to stand still.

Sometimes I feel like I can touch the sky at times... and at night? I feel like I can reach the stars.

I'm Stanley Stilts, age nineteen. A one-of-a-kind giant, circus performer, juggler, comedian, and traveler. 

I'm not afraid of who I am, and you shouldn't be. I might look too good to be true... too tall of a tale to be believed... but I'm real, no matter what people say.

* * *

Today's another day of adventure, this time in sunny California. I grew up here before Mom and Dad decided to start a family circus... for about four years. Like any other place, I'd be making new friends with the audience, the kids, and the folks in town.

As much as I'd like to visit Disneyland today, there's a height limit on rides. I'm too big for the sort of thing. Wish I were smaller, but it's too late for that now, really. Way too late.

I could visit Hollywood and get my hand printed onto the sidewalk like all of the other big stars... but I can already reach them at night. What's the point? And maybe if I walked into a studio, I could wrestle Godzilla?

No, that would happen next week on Wednesday, not today.

Today was another day for performances, and it'd be like that for the rest of the week.

I opened my eyes and got off my bed, and got to my feet. This tent was a bit set apart from the others and blocked off from the others to give me some privacy. Only people from the circus troupe could check on me from here. I looked in the mirror, fixed up my hair, and put on my straw hat... picked off my shirts from the hangers up high, grabbed my pair of shorts, and my massive shoes. Not massive as in clown shoes, but massive as in _me_. Looking good, even in my pajamas. It was time to get changed and get the day started.

I got changed and got outside, stepping over the fence set outside my "magic tent," as I called it, and took a deep breath of the fresh morning air. The carnival was just getting set up. Today was our first day in California on the tour. Not everything would be quite ready until later.

Taking a couple of steps onto the empty side of the fairground, I did my morning stretches and balance exercises. At this height, it was harder than ever to keep balance. Sometimes I swayed in the wind. Sometimes when no one was around I'd fall over, and I would have to ask some folks to come along and help me up. Thankfully, for a giant, I'm a bit on the light side. Most of my height is in my legs, anyway, which look like stilts, especially nowadays.

As I finished the last of my stretches, I decided to make my way into town. Not a lot of people were quite awake, even if the sun was up. It was a quiet morning.

Larger than life is what I was to all of these people in town. Standing nearly twenty feet taller than the average person, I looked like someone straight out of a fairy tale, as one of my friends would put it. Seeing me wasn't just enough for some people. Every now and then there'd be someone who'd run off, scared out of their mind, and I'd give a bit of a chuckle and walk off. They'd come back to where they were, convinced what they saw was a dream. I'd like to convince them that I exist without scaring the shit outta them, honestly.

As I made my way to the suburbs, I cast a shadow on a particular middle-class house... and a boy about twelve opened the window of his room to get a better look... and quickly spat out some of his toothpaste in shock.

"Good lord you're huge."

"Yeah, I get that a lot. Good morning."

"G-good morning."

"My name's Stanley. Stanley Stilts. What's yours?"

"Elliot."

"Well, Elliot, today's your _big_ day. It's not every day you meet a real-life giant."

"Real life? This isn't a dream?"

I frowned slightly. This was something that was common.

"Well, there's way to know for sure. How fast can you get outside without waking your parents?"

"You kidding? I run track and field at school. I'm able to go down for midnight snacks all the time. I've only gotten caught once or twice."

"Then let's see what those quick legs of yours can do then, Elliot."

In five minutes, the kid was out of his pajamas and quietly unlocked the door, and walked out to meet me. His footsteps slowed, and he craned his neck up to see me.

"Shit, my neck..."

"Language."

"Alright..." He made his way over to me and stood in front of my big shoes, before climbing up and giving me a light kick. I swayed a little... and the kid could feel that. His eyes went wide.

"I'll lose my balance. Don't do that again," I spoke with a stern tone.

"Got it, Mr. Stilts..." He quickly got off and backed toward his house, looking up at me, awestruck.

"I've got a photoshoot today over by the fairgrounds for some posters that'll be put around this week. I need to get going soon."

"I've got a question though. Why'd you come over to my house?"

"I just wanted to see this town. I grew up around here before Mom and Dad went off and started the family circus."

"Family circus? How tall are your mom and dad?"

"Normal size."

"Then how'd you get so big?"

"It's a long story. Longer than my legs," I laughed.

"A circus... I'll try convincing some folks around town to go and see you guys."

"You'd do that? We just met."

"You seem pretty neat. When do your shows start?"

"Around ten o'clock AM, over by the fairground. Today it starts at nine o’clock at night though, since this is the first day in California for the tour."

"Cool. One more question. Do you have a girlfriend?" 

I shook my head, letting loose a hearty laugh.

"No... I'm afraid I've outgrown romance, to be honest," I said as I adjusted my straw hat. "But I'll see you around."

* * *

I put one foot in front of the other... As far away as they looked, I knew those feet belonged to me. I'd have gotten used to it by now.

The honk of a car... that was the photographer who'd help make our posters. An old friend of my parents, back from when the circus first started. As he made his way out of the car, I bent down a bit slightly and waved, and he'd waved back.

"Stanley Graham?"

"I... go by Stanley Stilts, now, actually. I'm sorry, but I forgot your name."

"Andrew Scott. Andy Scott. So... Stanley... I know your parents mentioned that you were a lot bigger than they are, but... I thought they'd meant like... Andre the Giant type big."

"Yeah."

"Are... are you really that tall? You're not on stilts, are you?"

"Nope."

"How'd it all happen?"

I shrugged and laughed.

"Magic."

That wasn't a wrong answer. I had made a wish, after all.

"Have you got any ideas for what I can do for the poster? I'm the poster boy for this half of the tour. That's what Mom and Dad said, didn't they?"

"I'm not too sure about any ideas. I thought about you posing next to a dwarf would be great..."

"Kathleen is helping set up in the tent. I can go get her if you want."

"No, no... she might be too small for the photo. Do you have any ideas?"

"We could use one of the animal cage cars. I can use it as a footrest," I said as I walked off and wheeled one over. I took a step onto it and pulled a pose.

"Alright then... give me your best smile, Stanley."

I gave a smile, and we waited for the film to develop... I'd blinked in the photo, and the pose looked a bit bland.

I looked at Andy Scott with an uncertain look on my face, and he gave me a sheepish smile.

”Let’s try that again. You’re a sorcerer or magician on stage, aren’t you? Try adding a little magic to the picture.”

I bit my lip and did another stretch, then took a step onto the car once more. I relaxed one arm, and raised the other with an index finger pointing upward toward the night sky by my head... and gave it a small smile. Andy clicked with the Polaroid camera.

I heaved a heavy sigh and sat down as we waited for the photo to develop... and once I saw the photo, I gasped with surprise. In the picture, it looked like I was putting up a star in the night sky. That looked magical enough—I looked larger than life... tall enough that I literally reached the stars.

“This is perfect,” Andy and I said in unison. We didn’t expect that. Catching each other by surprise, we laughed... and then I managed to get to my feet after a couple of moments.

”How do you guys turn that photograph into a poster?” I asked, eyebrow raised.

”This one actually might take take a day or so to get ready. Tomorrow I’ll have to get my friend to sketch you out from the photo for a traditional circus poster, and by Wednesday I’ll probably come back with the posters. How’s that sound?”

”That sounds great. I’ll go check in with Mom and Dad. They might want to meet up with you too before you go, then we’ve got the carnival and circus up and running for the night.”

”Alright, big fella. Break a leg out there!” Andy Scott gave me a salute, and I saluted back, making my way over toward Mom and Dad who were back in the main tent finishing their rehearsal. As I made my way inside, I cleared my throat.

”Andy Scott’s here. I’ll help out with the carnival and attract visitors while you guys catch up with him. The show doesn’t start till nine, right?”

”Not till nine, yes. Wouldn’t hurt to catch up, I believe,” Dad spoke up, looking up at me.

”The posters aren’t gonna come till Wednesday at the latest, by the way. But I can still do shows next week, and do that Hollywood thing I was asked to do,” I added.

”That’s perfect,” Mom replied. “We’ll see you at the performance.”

I watched them walk past my long legs and out of the tent... and then followed suit, making my way to the fairground where the carnival was just finishing the last couple of touches before opening for the month.


	8. 1988 - Come One, Come All

The carnival was almost complete by the time I got outside. What it needed was the streamers and ribbons near the entrance. Kathleen, Mike, and I were tasked with the work and adding those last few decorations.

It didn’t take that long to do. After we’d finished, I bent my knees and got high fives from my friends here, then we made our way back to the main part of the fairground. The two went back to big top to get ready for the big performance... and I stood in the middle of the fairground, ready to bring in the crowds.

I cleared my throat... and belted out the words I’ve heard so many times.

”Come one, come all! The Graham Carnival and Circus is open to all!”

Slowly but surely, the more I said the phrase, and the more I walked around the area, visitors would stop by the carnival to get a good look. Occasionally people would gather around me and look up in awe, and I’d make jokes or casual banter, asking how their day was and how things have been. As for kids? I’d answer their questions with a smile.

The magic of the circus and the carnival had gotten to me. Soon enough there were crowds in the carnival, and the circus would be ready soon.

Then came something I really, really didn’t like. Something that nearly ruined the night for me.

I was walking around the carnival, moments before the show started, directing people to the big top.

”So... Stanley. How do we really know you’re on stilts or not? How do we know if those legs are fake?” The question came from a kid with a black haired bowl cut and red glasses, with a look on their face that seemed to be out to cause trouble.

I hesitated to answer that.

”Is seeing me walk around and bending my knees not enough?” I chuckled, trying to make a joke.

“You can’t be that tall. No way.”

So much for “seeing is believing.” And just then I got a good kick in the back of my foot, around my heel. It hurt... and I began to sway a bit. I was losing my center of gravity.

”Don’t do that,” I spoke with a stern voice.

Lo and behold, the asshole did it again. I swayed a bit more... and fell over onto my back. I heard some people scream and run off, and some had already made their way to the big top. The show was going to start soon. This was not turning out well.

The troublemaker was out of my sight. I couldn’t see them, nor could I get up.

Sometimes I just didn’t get it. I really was this tall. I really was big... and there wasn’t anything I could do about it. There were problems with being this big, and balance was one of them. With those long legs of mine and my center of gravity so high up, it was a bit easier to lose balance than it was in the past. No person was meant to be this size.

I felt my eyes water up. The circus was on in the big top as I was lying here, unable to get up. Everyone was already inside, and the folks at the concessions and games in the carnival... those were the only guys that could help me. I screamed for help, trying to wipe my eyes and stop crying.

I was too tall and too weak to get up on my own. My legs were kind of like stilts, and my arms were a bit thin. I had strength, but not enough to get myself off the ground alone. It was much easier to manage years ago. Back then I was still big, but I was able to get back up no problem. I wasn’t massive like I was now. Being short would have been better too.

But there was no going back to that. The wish had already been made.

And I’d finally managed to get back up with some help. It took a slight push or so to get me back up... and I was standing tall again.

"You’ve got to be more careful.”

"I was. This kid... he knocked me over. Sometimes people will just try and knock me down like that... like they think I’m not real. A fake... like this whole height isn’t legit. I’m big, and I can’t help that.”

"We know. Just... stay safe out there, okay big guy?”

I smiled down at the lady who’d helped me up... the one running the funnel cake stand.

"Thanks a ton, really. I... I need to get going.” I gave the lady a thumbs up and ran off toward the back of the big top to get ready for the show.

* * *

"What happened, Stan? You were supposed to show up here five minutes ago,” Lucas spoke, looking up at me with a look of worry on his face.

"Am I late for my performance?”

"No, you’re just in time. Your dad’s calling you up,” Kathleen said as she pointed toward the curtains.

I took a deep breath, and walked through the curtains, waving and smiling as Dad introduced me to the crowd. I looked a bit tired, but I shook my head and smiled at dad, lowering my hand for a high five. After the message had been received, Dad went back behind the curtains, and I cleared my throat.

The routine... I forgot to bring some things with me on stage.

But the show had to go on.

"Hello, everyone. My name's Stanley. Stanley Stilts. I'm nineteen years old, and I stand between nineteen to twenty-three feet tall," I said with a smile, looking around at the audience.

That kid that knocked me over earlier was in the audience with his parents. He looked guilty. Something in me wanted to get even with him... but it wasn't like me to get down to his level. If I wanted to keep my head held high, I had to do just that. And so I'd go on to improvise my routine.

"Tonight, uh... I forgot to pack up on jokes and routines. Sometimes life's a juggling act too, you know," I chuckled. "But I know a thing or two about magic... and you guys shouldn't be afraid to ask me some questions. Give me a question, and I might answer."

"Are you really that tall? Or are you on stilts?"

"Even if the word stilts is in my name, I'm not actually on stilts. Somehow I'd managed to get super tall, and well... there's a way I can prove that my height's real, and there's a better way to do that than kicking me in the back of the heel... because I can do things that people can't do if they were on stilts," I said as I did some stretches. I then bent my knees, and then stretched up... and then took off in a run, before quickly managing to skid to a halt. People's eyes darted from here to there, and the kid that'd toppled me once before suddenly cleared his throat to ask a question.

"You, in the red glasses and black hair. Do you have a question?"

"My name's Charlie, and uh... well... look. I don't quite understand how you got that tall. Is there a story to it?"

"There is. There's a bit of magic involved in it, too, actually. And speaking of magic, how about a trick right before we get to the storytelling?" I pulled out a deck of cards from my pocket, performed a quick card shuffle, then looked to the audience, showing off the deck.

"Everyone, make sure to take note of a card that you like. After I tell my story, you might find something under your seats," I said, adjusting my straw hat. "Have you ever felt like you wanted to be different? Have you ever felt like you wanted to stand out? Make yourself known for something? I did. And have you ever made a wish? I did."

"A wish?" Charlie crossed his arms.

"That's right. When I was around ten, I wasn't tall at all. In fact, I was pretty short for my age. I didn't feel like I made a difference out here with this family circus."

"So you wished you were bigger? More talented?" Another person spoke from the crowd.

"How'd you guess?" I said with a laugh. "But yeah, that's true. But be careful what you wish for. The years went by and I started having to duck under doorways... ordering custom clothing... and now I'm too tall to even get inside most buildings now, good lord. But there was a constant. I always had my family to fall back on. Mom and Dad were always looking out there for me."

"Mom and Dad? How tall are they?"

"You met them a bit earlier, actually. My mom's the trapeze artist. My dad's the ringmaster... and I'm their super-sized son, Stanley. So as we toured around, I started honing my talents... and now I'm here where I am today."

I didn't expect applause, but I managed to get it from this audience.

"I'm just like all of you guys, only... bigger, really. Now... I've got a gift for all of you before we move onto the next act. Remember my magic trick earlier before the story? Look under your seats."

Everyone in the audience pulled out a card from under their seats and stared in awe. The card would have my signature on it... and would be the lucky card that they chose earlier before. How did the trick happen? I'd tell you, but that would spoil the magic. Let's just say that this circus works together backstage sometimes.

* * *

After the show had ended, a couple of folks gathered around me again outside of the tent as I did some juggling acts and told some jokes that were part of the missing routine. Charlie and Elliot were there in the audience, the former looking still a bit guilty.

"Hey. Can you hear me up there?" Charlie asked.

I bent over a bit and brought my hand to my ear, acting as if I couldn't hear him. A couple of people laughed, but Elliot wasn't one of them.

"Sorry for knocking you over back there. I... didn't think that you were real."

"I get that a lot. Sometimes I have to remember that I'm a giant... and that I can't go to the same places that you guys do. I miss being shorter, but there's no going back to that, is there?"

"I get that. I can't go back and rewind time to stop myself from making you fall."

"Hey, everyone makes mistakes, alright?" Elliot said as he put his arm around Charlie. To see people getting along, laughing and smiling, making new friends... It was a good feeling. A feeling that made me feel... normal in spite of everything. Seeing things like this happen every time I'm on tour is what keeps me going, as well as my outlook on life from all the way up here. Every day was an adventure for me now.


	9. 1988 - Growing Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanley Stilts goes to Hollywood. He finds Nora there, having landed a role in a movie. Stanley expresses frustration in being unable to go to college and starts becoming disillusioned with his height.

I mentioned last week that I was asked by someone in Hollywood to do some things. Those things in question were mainly just some pictures to promote the circus and tourism for the place. Some of those things were to show off a fake fight between me and a Godzilla statue around the same height as me, a picture of myself with a famous actress, my long legs walking down the Walk of Fame, and a visit to the TCL Chinese Theatre to get a handprint or footprint immortalized in the concrete ground among some other movie stars. The latter thing is what caught my interest—to be with the greats. But I was a bit iffy about going around in public around this time. The time I usually looked around places were in the early mornings.

As I walked through the city, my twenty-three-foot tall self stood out like a sore thumb. The stares from people here felt different from the looks of the audience during a circus performance. Unlike the times I’d usually visit towns early in the morning, it was impossible to get around unnoticed at this time of day. No person came close to where my knees were in height. I remembered why I didn’t go out that often when I grew past nine feet. There were so many places here that looked nice, so many places I wanted to visit, but, yes. I was too big and too late to be able to enter any of them. Everyone else was going in and out and enjoying themselves with their lives, while I had to live mine a bit differently.

On the bright side, I had my dad with me. From down there he could help keep people from trying to check if I were on stilts or not. But still. Being here made me feel... regret. Even if was happy with being so tall, I missed being able to live like a normal person. The times I was able to enter buildings without having to duck... the times I was able to enter buildings outside of barns and big circus tents.

But it didn’t make sense to just live in the past, did it? I happened to be one of a kind. A real-life giant. This was something I’d accepted and learned to live with. Still... I did feel some yearning to at least be small enough to live like a normal person again... at least as normal as a son gets in a family-run circus, anyway.

* * *

We arrived at the studio lot where our client was. I didn’t quite know the guy—I lived a bit further up in California when I was younger, and never visited Los Angeles until now.

“Stanley Stilts, this is the mayor of Los Angeles, Theresa Crawford,” Dad said as he introduced the lady in front of me. The two seemed to be on good terms; they’d met before I was born. 

I gave a little smile and wave toward them but still a bit disheartened by the walk around the city.

“Something up, big guy?” Crawford asked. “I’ve got a son who’s six-three and thin and lanky like you. You’re not the only one who has problems with their height.”

“I... don’t go in public that often. There’s a reason I like staying back in the circus. I know I’m huge and all, but... I just feel out of place here, ma’am. Are you sure we need to do all of this now? I’m more comfortable doing this in the morning.”

“Are... are you shy, Stanley?”

“No, no. I just feel kind of... awkward, really.”

“Then you should get past that. Don’t let it reach you. You’re getting opportunities that not a lot of other people would get here in Hollywood... seeing things from a different perspective.”

That reminded me of Grandma’s advice. I smiled a bit more, feeling a bit more confident in myself.

“I guess I wouldn’t mind getting a better look around the place and helping promote tourism, ma’am,” I replied. Looking around the lot, I noticed a Godzilla statue placed nearby.

“Is that the one I need to fight?” I said with a bit of heroic confidence in my voice. “Anything to keep the city safe and reduce damage.”

Crawford laughed a bit at the little performance and nodded, getting their Polaroid camera ready for the picture.

I adjusted my straw boater hat and shirt collar, and went in for a punch, then a second picture of me attempting to kick the statue. That part of the photoshoot was over and dealt with... and not long afterward I got to take a look at the developed photos. It looked like a scene from a movie... and the relatively low angle made me look enormous. I laughed at those pictures a bit, then tapped the mayor on the shoulder on the next part of the errand.

“You need me to take a picture next to a famous actress, right? Are there any studios filming right now? Or can we stop by a diner or cafe and try to meet up with an actor for lunch?” I asked, looking back at the rest of the city from where we were in the lot.

“There’s a deli where actors and actresses occasionally stop by. There’s usually long lines there, but if we can get there a bit before lunch we can probably beat the traffic,” Crawford suggested. “As for the actress, are you familiar with Phoebe Cates? I hear she’s around the area. She was in Gremlins, I believe.”

Gremlins. That was a movie I’d remembered seeing when we stopped in Ohio for a bit during our tour in 1984 or so. Josh, Sadie, and I had watched it on VHS at their place.

I nodded, remembering her somewhat. It’d been a couple years since I’d last watched the movie. With that, Crawford handed directions to my father and got in her car to meet up with us there. Now, at the size I was now, I could outrun a car with my strides... but I preferred running in places that were more open, like fields and dirt roads rather than cities like this. From where we were, we’d just walk to the diner.

The crowds were the same. I still felt a bit uncomfortable as I walked through the city, but remembering what Crawford and grandma said seemed to help with that. I had my own perspective on Hollywood from up here... and I’d already made it big in life... just a bit different than the actors here in Hollywood.

We’d arrived at the diner, and I saw Crawford wave at me, and a young woman in casual wear beside her quickly turning around and doing a double-take. It took me a moment to realize that was Phoebe Cates. She looked a bit older from the last time I’d seen her on television or in a movie, but she looked as stellar as ever. She then turned to Crawford, then to look at me again. I gave a small wave, and she waved back a bit awkwardly, not sure whether to be afraid or amazed.

“Phoebe Cates?”

“Stanley Stilts?” She said with an awkward smile on her face.

“Yep. That’s me, alright.”

“And you’re not actually on stilts?”

“Nope. One of a kind giant,” I said, stretching up to the sky.

“Here I thought Mrs. Mayor here was telling a tall tale, but look at you. You’re more than a tall tale. You’re so... huge.”

“Yeah, go figure.”

“I’d... go over to where you are, but I don’t wanna lose my place in line. What do you plan on getting? I’ll order for you, Mr. Stilts,” she said, turning back toward the building.

“Just a couple of sandwiches and maybe an order of fries. Three burgers, I guess.”

“Any drinks?”

“Just a Coke. Thanks, by the way.”

“Don’t mention it.”

From there it was waiting. I still got a bunch of stares from onlookers. As much as I wanted to go back to the fairgrounds, I couldn’t just go up and leave—and it’d be rude to. These people... I could just look past them, really. That was easy to do.

Phoebe and Crawford came around with lunch for the four of us. Even sitting down with my legs crossed, I still loomed over the rest of my group, but it was at least more stable. Three burgers were enough to keep me satisfied. I was a giant, sure, but my appetite wasn’t terribly ravenous. I could eat well. Opening the Coke and getting my share of fries wasn’t too hard. My hands weren’t that massive, but my arms were plenty long and awkward—but I managed not to spill. Eating was generally the same—you just couldn’t necessarily sit at a table like a normal person like this, though.

“So how old are you anyway, Stanley?”

“19.”

“You’ve got a pretty face. It’s a shame your height kind of makes it a bit hard to see it,” Phoebe spoke.

My face went a little red.

“Ever consider being an actor?” She asked.

“Being part of a circus is kind of like being an actor, isn’t it?”

“In the movies, I mean.”

“No. I’m too tall. I don’t think I’d fit in the set.”

“That’s true... still, glad we could have this small talk.”

I laughed at the joke, then looked at Dad.

“Have you ever wanted to be an actor?” I asked.

“I don’t really have the charisma for that sort of thing,” He replied, then looked to me. “I think you still could work in film. Outdoor shots work.”

“So what sort of movies do you see for me, Phoebe?”

“Fantasy movies, I suppose. Ones set in fairy tales. That way we wouldn’t have to rely on special effects as much,” she said with a slight laugh.

“Star Wars, maybe? I could make a pretty intimidating alien.”

“I could see that. It was nice meeting you today. Hope the circus performances go well and break a leg out there, big guy.”

After lunch, we got to take pictures. Shots that accentuated my height, with her next to my long legs... and another shot of me looking down at her and her looking up at me. It felt like some sort of fantasy romance movie, almost. And once that was over, we waved her goodbye.

The next stop was the Walk of Fame. My feet were big enough to cover at least two and a half squares of those stars... that was the first picture. My shoes were certainly big. Another shot was from a low angle as if I was about to take a step. I looked as tall as a skyscraper in that picture once I saw it. And before we knew it, we’d made it to the Chinese Theater. 

There was a large open spot with wet cement for me ready for the imprint, fairly long and wide enough to accommodate my hands and feet. Here, I would be among the big Hollywood stars and actresses over the years... but I hesitated. Did... did I really deserve this? I wasn't a Hollywood actor, I was a circus performer. But this was the chance of a lifetime, wasn't it? Not every person would get a chance to do this. With a step forward, then another step... I left rather big footprints in the concrete... then bent down a bit to leave my handprint, before signing my name.

Stanley Stilts... with two letter t's extra long. Once that was done, Crawford helped wipe off my hands and shoes of concrete... and I nodded.

"Guess it's time to head back to the fairgrounds, then, right?" I asked.

"Are you sure you want to leave Los Angeles right away, Stanley?"

"I... don't really feel like I fit in here in a big city."

"No, I mean... there's still a couple more sights to see, things that you could look at. Like the water tower at the Warner Brothers lot, or..."

I shook my head.

"I... I need to practice for tonight's performance, ma'am."

"Alright. My son and I will see you perform later this weekend, then. Good luck out there!"

I gave a slight smile and looked to Dad, who smiled. He... knew how I felt about big cities and going out in public. So as we made our way through Hollywood to get back to the fairground, I found someone I didn't expect to find here, of all places. It was Nora. I hadn't written to her in a couple of months. Right here I felt like I needed to hide, but I couldn't really do that. I... stood out, as always.

"Stanley Stilts?" Nora said, craning her neck up to look at me. She had a smile on her face, as if surprised and happy to see me.

"Nora? What... what are you doing here?"

"I landed a role in a couple of movies after I tried out an audition back home... so I transferred here."

"Transferred? I thought you said you were going to drop out of college?"

"I... I did say that in the last letter I sent, didn't I? My parents... they convinced me not to and I managed to get through another semester... then I got a couple of movie roles after an audition. My parents suggested that I move to Los Angeles for easier filming and a better college... and so far things have been pretty great."

"...Have they, now?" I felt glad for her. I... really did, but... the more I heard how her life was going, the more I realized I wasn't... normal. I couldn't go to college. Even if I had a diploma for high school, no college would have the money or interest in accommodating a 23-foot, 19-year-old boy who'd only be around campus for a couple of years. It'd cost a ton. I couldn't even get a dorm, either.

"You look upset, Stan."

"I... I am. I mean... I'm happy for you, that things are going along great. Not everyone gets a chance to become an actor or get a chance to go to a nice college in LA, but..."

"But what?"

I looked at my dad, then to Nora.

"I feel... kind of guilty about being huge like this. I know I'm supposed to be one of a kind. I usually embrace my height, but just lately I've been feeling a bit... bummed out by not being able to do things that everyone else can do. I want to be great and successful in general, not just in the circus. But my talents... they're only good for that, aren't they? Circus work. Juggling, telling jokes, magic tricks... I know I'm smart. I've got a high school diploma, but what good is that if I'm too goddamn tall for a college campus? What use is it if I'm too tall for sports? Too tall for movies? Too tall for... anything."

Dad looked up at me with an unsure expression.

"To be honest... I don't know what to do with you either. You've gotten so big and so tall that I... let you do your own thing. I thought I'd let you decide for yourself what you wanted to do, within your own limits. When you were younger you wanted to be part of the circus, with an act of your own... and you have that now. But I always thought that there'd come a time where you would want to do something else... but your height's made that a bit difficult for you, hasn't it?" Dad asked.

I nodded, and sat down in the park, crossing my legs.

"...I didn't ask to be an actress. I wanted to be a journalist. But I took the opportunity I got with the audition and went for it. I can be both. You didn't ask to be twenty-three feet tall, did you?"

"I wished to be taller. I wished to be talented. I wished to be appreciated. I've got all those things, and I don't know what to do with them but just... put on a circus act," I replied.

"You've got a loving circus troupe, family, and friends, Stanley. You were appreciated before you made that crazy wish you told me about in that letter."

"You put in a lot of work into helping make sure the circus was the best it could be before you found some acts to put up on your own. You practiced those magic tricks for years."

"...but what else can I do? I got what I asked for. I know I want to make people smile and laugh... I know I want to make people feel better, and I'm already good at that."

"How about becoming an artist?" Nora suggested. "Art doesn't care how tall you are. Art is a means of expressing yourself... how you yourself feel, how you want people to see you... you can express all sorts of things, like all this pent-up frustration and confusion."

That was a good idea. Art showed promise...

"Weren't you in the choir with Nora at one point? I think I saw you two singing in one of the yearbooks that some schools managed to mail to us."

Choir. That was three years ago... but I still knew how to sing. Every now and then when I was on my own I'd hum or sing a song to myself while I was practicing. These things... it wasn't just circus and performance skills that could define me. My voice... despite how big I was, despite how high up I was... could be soft. Could be quiet. At the same time, I could belt out notes. It wasn't all too deep. If I were normally proportioned for someone my height, I'd definitely have a deeper voice... but long arms and limbs didn't necessarily correlate to that sort of thing. I gave a slight smile. I wasn't quite over my height, but I was happy that I could just keep going. I was happy to know that there were still some things I could do that any other person could do... things that made me human. Things that made me feel... normal. It still hurt that I couldn't go to college... it still hurt that I couldn't visit most buildings... but I was happy that I was able to live life to some extent.


	10. December 1988 - Colossal Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanley gives it his all.

This year's big December venue was in New York. The holidays were approaching, and tickets were selling fast. Most kids were on their best behavior; that meant fewer brash attempts to see if I was on stilts or not... and I had an excuse to sing holiday songs and Christmas carols as I would walk around and advertise the circus in the winter carnival outside.

In one of the longest ever pairs of snow pants, in a parka with insanely long sleeves, and good-sized pair of boots, I walked out in the snow around the area, wiping off the white layers of snow that showed up on rides, attractions, and concession stands... and I found myself surprised by a poke in the back of my leg.

"Hey, beanpole. Happy holidays."

That was a voice I recognized. Before I could turn around and see who it was, my center of gravity shifted and I fell face first in the snow.

"Sadie, help him up. You're the one who knocked him over."

"Just seeing if he's on stilts, Josh."

"You know he hates it when people pull that crap. He's got awful balance, remember?"

Not long afterward I found myself sitting back up, long legs outstretched on the white landscape.

"Not cool, Sadie," I said with a laugh.

"Relax, we were there to help you up, big guy. I'm sorry you weren't able to visit us when you were in Ohio," Sadie spoke, looking up at me with a smile on her face.

"We were off at college. The old college we went to merged with one that was a good distance away, so we weren't able to make it to see you. But we're here to make it up to you guys. Besides, I hear your routine's gotten a lot better. You sing now, right? I'm down to listen to you belt out a couple of notes." Josh said, rolling up a snowball.

"Yeah, I sing. Hope you're okay with Christmas carols tonight, Josh."

"As long as it's not _Little Drummer Boy_."

"What's up with that one?"

"Christmas pageant from back when he was six. The drum fell apart because he kept drumming so hard, so he had to improvise and pat his stomach for a drum."

"That's inventive."

"I looked stupid doing it, Stan. That aside, how tall are you now?"

"Kind of lost track, actually, but I think I'm around twenty-three feet tall lying down, anyway," I said, getting up to my feet and standing at full height.

"We can verify if it's the same standing up. Sadie's a math major, remember?"

"Yeah. I had to learn triangulation right before my final, so I have that stuff ingrained into my head at this point. Josh, do you have that measuring tape?"

Josh pulled out a measuring tape, and I gave him an odd look as he handed it to Sadie.

"We were planning on getting you guys a Christmas tree. That's why I have this on me, Stan."

"But we already have a tree here in the fairground."

"How about one for the tent? We'll bring one over when we find one back in town."

"Your guess is correct, by the way. You're just bit about twenty-three feet, maybe a tenth of an inch shorter, if that matters," Sadie said, handing Josh's measuring tape back to her brother.

"Good to see that it's right, then. But the show doesn't start till eight o'clock though. Are you guys sure you'll have enough do around here? It's kind of early," I said, looking up at the somewhat cloudy skies.

"We thought you'd have a plan, ringmaster's son," Sadie replied.

It took a moment or two to think of one... but I got an idea.

"How about we hold a quick snowball fight, then you guys go grab a Christmas tree in town? I'll practice my routine, and once you guys come back and the others wake up, we can have breakfast, I do practice again, then eat lunch, and then we have fun at the winter carnival here? It doesn't open until one, anyway."

"Sounds good, but don't you have a disadvantage? We'll knock you over again, and you know how hard it is for you to get up. Besides, you're a big target."

"How about I use that hill over there as my base? It's... a bit easier for me to get up on a slope."

And with that, we'd begun our snowball fight. It was a bit one-sided, but both of us managed to have fun. By the end of it, I'd fallen onto the hill, both of my long legs covered in snow, and with flecks of snow mixed in with some of the freckles on my face.

"And David trumps Goliath," Josh says, looking over at me with a playful smile.

"I came close to winning, you guys. It's not my fault you're both so short," I said with a laugh.

"Us? Short? You're the giant here, Stanley Stilts! You should have squashed us flat if you mixed some of those juggling techniques of yours in there," Sadie retorted.

"My size doesn't exactly translate into superhuman strength, remember? I'm just really tall. And it's hard to juggle with this soft kind of snow."

It took a moment for me to get up, but it was easier on a sloped surface... and with Josh helping push me back up onto my feet.

"I'll see you guys later with the tree then, right?"

"That's the plan, isn't it?" Josh said, raising an eyebrow. I smiled back, heading back over to the big top to practice my routine. Not long afterward, my cousins had gone off into town."

* * *

A warm hearty breakfast welcomed me back as I finished practicing my routine. As I sat down outside the tent with my meal, I noticed the Lang siblings coming back with a fir tree on top of their car and walking back over with it. They didn't seem to have any trouble bringing it over; Josh was overall pretty fit, and Sadie did go to the gym every now and then, as she'd note in her letters occasionally.

"Mom? You've got a Christmas present outside."

"It's more than a week till Christmas, Stanley. Is this another practical joke with a snowball?" Mom said as she stuck her head out of the tent... and her face went wide with a smile as he saw Josh and Sadie coming over with a Christmas tree. Not long afterward, Dad followed... and Mike and the tattooed lady quickly came out to help and greet them.

It was a pretty heartfelt reunion, all things considered. Hugs all around, smiles, laughter... the sort of thing I enjoyed. Our breakfast meal felt a bit warmer than it was before.

* * *

Josh and Sadie watched my routine, giving a round of applause after each round of practice, but they all had ideas on how to make it a bit more spectacular. Despite not being a circus themselves, they had good ideas on how to improve it. Josh suggested that I use the clown car for my entrance to show off my height a bit better. Knowing that a large number of clowns could fit in there, he had no doubts that even I at this height could fit in there... and he'd be right once the performance came. Sadie suggested turning off some of the lights for my performance of _Silent Night_ , as well as candlelight... and that I show off a couple of my paintings I'd made in my free time back in my tent... to let people that I was more than a circus giant... that I was also artistic and human, like the audience. I was a bit iffy on that idea, but she'd managed to convince me to put it in tonight's show and subsequent performances.

Then came time for lunch. Like breakfast, it was a hearty meal. Warm sandwiches, soups, pasta... the other performers had contributed some recipes of their own, including Lucas DiAngelo, who now worked as a contortionist rather than a circus giant after I had taken the mantle from him years ago. He'd retired for a bit, but had come back for the December tour... and was surprised to see how tall I'd become. My massive 23-foot frame dwarfed his 7-foot-2 height.

This whole circus felt like a family. Cousins, parents, family friends, and people looking for a place where they belong... everyone here was different, and that was good. We all had something unique to ourselves, and I was gigantic. Mom was acrobatic. Dad was a leader. Lucas was tall. The animal tamer was fond of animals. Mike was versatile. Kathleen was tiny. The clowns were humorous. We were all different, and stood out in our own way... but I stuck out like a sore thumb even her. I still felt welcome nonetheless. This was my family. I wouldn’t trade it for the world... not even to become normal height again.

After lunch, I made my way to my tent to put on a holiday themed costume. As I headed out of the tent and to the fairground as the winter carnival started up, Josh and Sadie met up with me there.

“Aren’t Santa’s elves supposed to be small?” Josh said, looking up at me with a smile.

“Guess I’m an exception. Let’s get the celebration started, shall we?” I said as I looked out to see some people making their way into the carnival.

Sadie occasionally left to help give directions to the visitors and to go on a couple of rides, and Josh tried out some of the redemption games as I entertained some visitors with some juggling and antics. Not long afterward, we started caroling around near the Christmas tree. As the occasional curious visitor would walk over and investigate to see a towering elf in green, they’d find themselves quickly joining in the holiday cheer, caroling alongside the rest of us. It was almost contagious. Tonight just felt full of joy and cheer... just so much warmth, in spite of the cold.

Then came the time for the circus itself. Going back behind the big top, I changed to my uniform: the straw hat, the shorts, big sneakers, and button-up shirt. While the weather was cold outside, the spotlights that shone on the stage were warm. Josh and Sadie were part of the audience and would see the practice pay off. As the show went on with act after act, it came to be my turn.

* * *

I had no idea how I was able to fit in the clown car at this size—but I managed, like I said I would. I even drove the vehicle onto the stage, honking the horn. As the crowd looked on, they seemed to expect an encore performance from the clowns... until I opened one of the side doors.

From there I crouched out of the vehicle, gradually getting out and standing up tall at full height. Some of the crowd looked shocked, and some were laughing. Some were even cheering. What I did—it looked impossible, but I managed to do it. I walked forward and took off my hat, and took a bow too.

“Good evening, and happy holidays, everyone. How is everyone doing tonight?”

It was hard to make out an answer from all the murmurs.

“If your day is good, I’m happy for you! If your day isn’t, maybe a laugh or smile or two will turn things around. It doesn’t hurt to be _merry_ around _Christmas,_ does it?”

That got a couple laughs, and maybe a groan.

“My name is Stanley Stilts. I’m nineteen years old, twenty three feet tall, and the son of the ringmaster and trapeze artist you guys saw not too long ago on this stage. Now, how did a fella as huge as me come from them? I’m sure a couple of you are wondering that question, and sometimes I wonder that one myself.”

I shrugged, and smiled.

“I thought I’d never be on this stage when I was younger and a lot smaller—but you come to realize that sky’s the limit at some point. I realized that, and I kept getting taller as the years went by, practicing and practicing on all sorts of talents... and here I am now. It’s a pleasure to see you all today,” I said with a big smile on my face. That was met with a bit of applause, then a kid spoke up and raised a question.

“Will eating my fruits and veggies make me as tall as you?”

“Probably. Maybe even taller.”

“Are you on stilts, Stanley Stilts?”

“Nope. Crazy as it is, I’m actually this tall. Look, my knees bend... and my arms too.”

“How did you fit inside that little car?” Another asked.

“A magician never reveals his secrets, remember?”

“Are you a magician?”

“Sure am, and I’d like to show off a couple of tricks.”

With card tricks, tons of peppermint candy canes in my hat, and the good old fashioned endless handkerchief trick, I’d kept the audience entertained for a long while. Every now and then I’d be asked a question, and I’d offer an answer—sometimes a joke, sometimes a truth. Later on I’d managed to show off a couple of my paintings when some clowns came by to say “hello” in my show... and the older part of the audience found the art to be inspiring and intriguing, showing life from another angle and perspective... but it was soon time to say goodbye.

It would be getting late. The audience began to grow quiet... and the lights began to dim... until I pulled out a candle.

“Sure is a _silent night,_ isn’t it?” I joked, before clearing my throat.

“I’m sure not everyone here celebrates Christmas. Some of you celebrate Hanukkah. Some of you celebrate Kwanza. But regardless of what you celebrate, you can’t deny this is a time where friends and family come together. A warm feeling against the cold winter weather... feelings of love. Even if you don’t have a family per se... we’re here for you. Before we close out with a big finale, let’s slow down a bit. I’d like to sing tonight... a soft song. A warm song... a quiet song. This is a song I’m sure all of you have heard this season: _Silent Night._ ”

As I sang with a calm, soothing voice for a couple of verses, my face lit by candlelight, the rest of the circus joined in, singing as well... and then the audience followed too.

This performance... it’d be something to remember for sure.

This sort of performance was what made me feel like I’d made an impact. A way to leave a lasting impression... and it wasn’t just my colossal stature and charisma that contributed to this. I’d felt it in my heart. I spoke from the heart. Not every circus had someone speaking from the heart—but I’d managed to bring it out.

Once again I’d learned to embrace it all. 


	11. 1994 - Collapse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanley falls over.

Year after year, I kept performing. I was getting taller. It was getting harder to live. It was getting harder to walk. It was getting harder to keep balance.

I’m 25 now. I’ve officially lost track of my height at this point, but I knew I wasn’t close to forty or fifty feet tall. All I knew was that at this point, my days were numbered.

I don’t know how much longer I’ll last.

* * *

I woke up in an open field in the countryside. There was no need for a tent at my size anymore.

I looked up at the morning sky, unable to get up. At least the breeze felt great.

The last time I had performed was three months ago. Upon Dad’s request, I retired from being a circus performer.

Sure, I still made people laugh, smile, and filled them with wonder. But it was a wonder in itself how I was able to live like this. I knew I was too big for most things at this point—it had been the case years ago. But that isn’t what I meant. My arms and legs... they were _so long._ My body felt like it was being put to its limit. And I wasn’t even doing sports—my body was getting sore and tired on its own now, just by standing up.

I was so glad I’d rested somewhere soft.

But I had to get up sooner or later. It wasn’t long until Mom and Dad came along, as well as Mike to help push me up on my feet.

“You feeling better today, Stan?”

“Your skyscraper’s feeling a little sore, but he’ll manage. What’s the agenda for today?”

“Just exploring the countryside. Seeing sights with a break here and there.”

“That’s good. Just don’t push me too hard today... I don’t feel... right.”

“Something wrong?” Mike asked, looking up at his younger but towering cousin.

“I... feel... really weak today. Like I can’t stand up for very long... like I could fall down at any moment.”

“Should we get a doctor?”

“I’d appreciate that, actually.”

* * *

As I wandered the grassy field, occasionally making the stop to sit down or take a deep breath, Mike occasionally glanced up at me to see how I was feeling.

“You okay, big guy?”

“Mike? What would you do if I... died today?”

“Stan... why are you saying that?”

“I... feel like I’m dying,” I said quietly.

Mike bit his lip and lowered his head.

“I... honestly don’t know what I’d do. I know I’d cry for sure... and I know she’d cry too... and our future son would be heartbroken.”

“Would you say that... you loved me? Appreciated me?”

“I’ve always done that, Stan. Even when you were a little stinker who’d eat off of my plates, you always helped out. You had a good heart and were determined to join all of us even if you weren’t sure what you wanted to do.”

The doctor had arrived. I took a deep breath and lied down in the grass... and Mom nodded to the doctor, then smiled at me.

“Stanley Stilts? I remember you coming to our clinic a good whole ago. You’ve changed a lot since then, haven’t you?”

“I suppose. Can you... figure out what’s wrong?“

“Your mother told me your symptoms. I have an idea on what might be going on, but I’ll confirm it just to be sure.”

A brief check-up... and the doctor suddenly had a grave expression on his face.

I understood it immediately.

“Stanley... you’re going to die. It’s hard for your heart to pump all that blood so far. It’s... very hard for you keep balance now at your height. Today might as well be your last day on Earth... and there's nothing that can really be done about it. Your case... it's one of a kind. We don't know much about it.”

“I knew it,” I said, closing my eyes with a smile.

I heard Mom and Dad break into tears... and Mike turn away for a bit.

“It’s sad. I know. I never got married. I never went to college. I get why you’re crying. I’m your son. I’ve been... dealing with this for years. Of course it’s hard to live now. But just don’t cry. I’m going to make it all up to you guys. You’ve done so much for me. I'm happy I made the most of living like this... would... would you guys say I've made an impact? A lasting impression on others with just more than my height?"

Mike quickly turned toward me and took a deep breath.

"Yes."

"With everything you've done in the circus... you learned to embrace your differences. You were fine with standing out among a group of stand-outs. Of course that's bound to inspire people. Of course that's bound to inspire confidence, and it's inspired us. But we don't want to lose you," Mom said, hugging my arm tightly.

"It was going to happen anyway. I thought it would happen sooner when I was around nineteen... but your balance and health tricks really helped. But there's no stopping it, Mom. I'm going to die."

"...If you are, I'd rather have you do it around family and friends. Everyone you care about... we're gonna bring the circus here," Dad said, his voice cracking up slightly.

My face lit up. I'd always been watching from behind the stage or putting an act on the stage... this would be one of the few times I'd watch it as part of the audience... and one of the last times I'd ever watch it. Another opportunity was here.

"I'd... appreciate that. But I don't want to make anyone else sad. No."

"This circus is your family, Stanley. If we lose you, we lose you together. Go out with a smile. Go out with a laugh. If... I were in your shoes, I'd feel the same way."

"Dad, my shoes are way too big. There's no way they'd fit you," I said with a laugh.

"There's the wit I've always loved from you," Mom said as she wiped her face.

The doctor then nodded and prepared to pack his bags, looking at me for a moment, then nodded to me and everyone else, asking if he could take his leave. Mom gave him a solemn yes... and my parents went off to prepare the performance.

* * *

Being on the receiving end of a performance was definitely different.

It had started with my Dad introducing the members of the troupe, everyone I knew. Mom, Lucas, Mike, Kathleen, the clowns, the animal tamer, the strongman... and a couple of the new faces we got along our travels had shown up as well. Even if I was the sole member of the audience, they didn’t hesitate to make it the best they could.

Throughout the entire thing I’d smiled. Everyone was just so talented, so good... and I kind of half expected my smaller self from a couple years ago... the Stanley Stilts that could still perform, to just show up on stage and perform myself... but that was long gone now.

At the end everyone took a bow. By then I was crying, weeping, happy that these guys... my family... had all done this for me.

“You’re the best.”

And those would be my last words.


	12. Epilogue

There was a rather large turn out at the funeral held for Stanley. His size. His kindness. His friendliness. His charisma. Loads of people remembered him as posters from tours over the years were put up around the area. His casket was gigantic—but with the help of many people it could be closed.

Looking at his face in the casket... he finally seemed at peace. Things had gotten troubling for him as he had gotten bigger and bigger. Fitting into buildings became a problem. Custom clothes... maintaining balance... going to school... and his legs and arms especially. No person had ended up that tall. But his wish had been granted. Stanley showed talent. Stanley was definitely tall. And Stanley grew to be appreciated by many.

Josh and Sadie didn’t know how to feel about all of this, but they were certainly grieving with the rest of the family. The circus had closed after that performance—and Nora had taken a break from acting to come to terms with the loss of her gentle giant.

His height was never truly verified on official records—to think that someone would get so big and so tall sounded like something like a fairy tale... but it was true. His legs were truly long... as well as his arms. His hands and feet were big too. He was disproportionate in appearance, but his face was certainly youthful and bright, if you could see it. Freckles, brown eyes, shaggy hair, and an infectious smile were what others could make out with a good look or two... and it was all gone. Some things are too good to be true... and some things barely last.

Stanley Stilts had passed away.

* * *

It would take more than a couple years for the Graham family to get over their loss.

Their circus had disbanded, but they all remained in contact with one another—occasionally coming to carnivals and fairs to reminisce on good times. But everyone remembered Stanley.

On one particular day, Mr. and Mrs. Graham would spy a wish making machine back home in a fair in California...

And with a look of surprise on their faces, they found someone in front of the machine, eyes closed, and arms crossed.

Who else, but Stanley himself, at age 30, at the natural height of 6’4”. Limbs proportionate, still slightly baby-faced, freckles and all.

“Maybe that’s not worth wishing for,” he’d spoke... before being met with a hug.

And he’d hugged them in return.


End file.
